


IAWOITE - Chapter 17

by mggislife2789



Series: It All Works Out In The End [17]
Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 18:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9338111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry ;)





	

Friday came and went.

I had been one week since Spencer said he needed time to think. After toiling away in your apartment for the weekend, once again contemplating whether or not you might have lost the love of your life, you returned to work, deciding that if he hadn’t spoken to you by then, you were going to ask him to talk. Your mind was spinning with a million possibilities. But you wanted to give him his space even though you knew you’d done nothing wrong. Everyone worked through things in their own way; you just wanted him to talk about it.

“Conference room, ten minutes,” Garcia said as she teetered by on her insanely high heels. How she managed to run around the office in those things was beyond you.

You called after her. “We have a case?”

“Bad one,” she grimaced. 

Spencer was the only one who still wasn’t in the office. You went to grab a cup of coffee, needing an IV drip of caffeine to keep going. As you walked into the conference room, already halfway through the sweet elixir of life that was your coffee, Spencer finally arrived, just in time to get briefed on the case.

“I just got a call from a friend in Washington State,” Hotch started, looking up from the table. “In the surrounding areas outside his precinct, there have been seven women - tall, blond and low-risk - that have all been kidnapped, held hostage and starved for at least a week and subsequently shot in the head.”

“That seems insanely personal and then completely impersonal,” you said, wondering what would drive a killer to get up-close and personal before death and then when it came to the actual act, go with something so quick and impersonal as a gun.

Hotch nodded in agreement. “Exactly,” he said, pressing the button again, “The first victim was found in his district, but then the police lost track. The unsub moved to another district, then another, then another. They dropped bodies in five different districts, meaning different jurisdictions, until the last two, which returned to his precinct.”

“The geographical profile indicates the unsub lives there then,” Spencer said. You turned toward him, trying your best to remain focused from a work perspective rather than wonder about the state of your relationship - but it was so difficult. He continued, “And based on the three victims that were left in that district, it’s likely they live here.” He traced a triangle in front of the screen.

“This unsub is decompensating,” Morgan said, “shuffling between papers.” “Based on the time difference between the last two victims, he’s decompensating fast. The starvation period is decreasing with each victim.”

“We need to get there before there are more victims,” Hotch said. “Wheels up in 30.”

—————-

The jet ride over to Washington state was tension-filled and awkward, with you and Spencer sitting at opposite ends of the jet. As you were talking to JJ and Penelope, explaining the situation and asking for advice, you looked over to see Spencer gazing at you with a look of longing on more than one occasion. Maybe you weren’t doomed after all. Maybe he realized he had nothing to worry about. You could only hope. Every time you locked eyes with each other, you saw a mix of sadness and guilt that was difficult to decipher. Maybe he felt guilty about not believing you. You were’t quite sure, all that you knew was that you were bursting at the seams to talk about it.

Hours later, you finally landed and made your way to the precinct. After all of the introductions were made, you got to work on the profile and were able to put a quick one together within the first few hours. The unsub was likely in his mid-20s to mid-30s, white, and based on the victim type, had an older caregiver - mother, aunt, sister - that was the catalyst for his anger. If she wasn’t already dead, he was definitely working toward her. Given that the victims were also low-risk, healthy and wealthy, his caregiver came from the same social circle.

“This is a small town,” Hotch said to the officer in charge. “And we know he came back here because he has unfinished business with someone here, so it’s unlikely he’ll try to make a run for it, but if you have the forces to spare, I’d station patrols at exit routes.”

Unfortunately, no more progress was made that night. You still had no idea who he was. Until the next morning.

As soon as you walked in, the team was greeted by the head officer with bad news. “We have another victim this morning,” he started, watching as the team shook their collective heads. “This one was found in her home and it seems she was only starved for a couple of days, but she was also shot in the head, same caliber bullet.”

“Spencer, Y/N, you go to the crime scene. Prentiss, Morgan, you go to the coroner’s office. Rossi, JJ and I will stay here and work on the profile.” Lovely. You weren’t speaking and Hotch had just paired you up - you could tell he did it on purpose. 

—————-

Five minutes into your silent drive to the crime scene, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Are we ever going to speak again?” you asked a little more angrily than you had meant to. “I mean even if we’re never going to be together again, we still have to work together and if we don’t talk about this soon, the tension is only going to get worse until it breaks.” It was only when you’d finished speaking that you realized how torn up with emotion you were. Your mouth was dry and you were having trouble swallowing. You waited with bated breath to hear his response.

“I don’t want to break up,” he said - your heart instantly lightened. Now at the crime scene, he parked the car and turned to you. “I love you…and I do trust you. I overreacted when I walked in and it took me the week to swallow my guilt over not talking to you and not trusting you when I should have. That’s why I haven’t said anything this week, because I felt guilty about how I reacted - not because of what happened.”

Swallowing hard again, you leaned over the partition in the car and gave him a kiss. “I know seeing him anywhere near me was not what you wanted…but it wasn’t what I wanted either. I don’t want him. I want you. I love you.”

Hopping out of the car, he walked over to your side, opened the car and pulled you out to return your kiss. “I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“I forgive you,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the crime scene. “Now we have a job to do. Let’s get in there.” 

Upon walking into the house, there was no doubt that this crime scene contained more anger than the previous ones. The house was damaged beyond repair - vases were smashed, art was ripped and hanging off the walls, furniture was moved…but according to the force on site, nothing was actually taken.

Morgan and Prentiss sent you both a picture of the victim from the morgue, along with a rundown of her injuries. “She was badly beaten before she was shot,” Spencer said, turning toward you. “Judging by that, the disarray of the crime scene, the fact that she looked very much like the other victims,” he rambled. 

“It means this was the woman who was at the core of his rage,” you finished. “This was his mother or aunt or sister - his caregiver.” 

“Morgan and Prentiss just came to the same conclusion,” he replied. 

All of a sudden, Hotch called. “There is a high-speed chase headed west out of town. There is a man that matches our profile with blood-spray on his face and he’s not going to be able to get out of town. We have everything blockaded.” 

“Where is he headed?” you asked, figuring this was going to end in one of a few ways. One, he was going to be caught quickly and without injury - unlikely, but possible. Two, he was going to kill himself in a car chase with police. Three, he was going to lose an entire police force - again unlikely, or four, he was heading toward a place that he knows where he felt like he could have the advantage. Hotch told you to head toward the bar at the west end of town.

“He’s on the run,” you said to Spencer. “We have to head toward the bar at the west end. I have a feeling he’s headed to a place he knows well.”

Spencer sighed. “If that’s the case, you know how this is probably going to end, right?”

“Unfortunately,” you replied. Even though you’d only been on the job for a little more than four months, you knew the likelihood of getting him to surrender.


End file.
